


Inside the Ring

by CircleTime



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-28 01:02:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18201380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CircleTime/pseuds/CircleTime
Summary: Mirage is injured during the games and is carried to shelter by his squadmate, Gibraltar, for healing. One thing quickly leads to another as he gets patched up.





	Inside the Ring

Elliott _hurt_ – there was no other way of putting it. Okay, well, he supposed there were plenty of other ways of putting it, really. He was in pain, his torso throbbed with sheer agony, his body felt as though someone had fired a spray of white-hot energy bullets directly into him. In fact, someone _had_ done exactly that not so long ago. But, for the sake of succinctness, it was enough just to say that he hurt.

Of course, it didn’t help that the man currently carrying him over his shoulder was treating him like a ragdoll – bouncing him up and down and jostling against him over and over, making the searing pain in Elliott’s torso sear extra hard. A groan dragged itself involuntarily from his throat as his wounds ached, earning him a muttered apology from the man underneath him.

“Sorry, brotha,” the man said, sounding genuinely apologetic despite his breathlessness. “Just need to lug you a bit further, then we’ll set you down, alright?”

 _Gibraltar_ , Elliott remembered – that was his name. Or the name he was using, at least. None of the people involved in the Apex Games used their real names, of course.

“Good news, friends! That building straight ahead of us should provide plenty of shelter!”

Well, maybe one or two of them did. The robot – Pathfinder – had proven to live up to his title during the game, effectively scouting the area and blazing a trail for Elliott and Gibraltar to follow, always keeping ahead of the Ring hot on their heels. Or worse – other squads. They’d been mostly lucky at the start of the game, but they’d run into trouble sooner or later. They’d been crossing the Shattered Forest when they’d run almost headlong into another squad, scrambling for their own weapons as though taken by surprise in turn. Whenever Elliott closed his eyes, he could see the masked face of the person who’d aimed their Havoc rifle at him and pulled the trigger, and even the memory brought with it a fresh wave of pain. Thanks to Gibraltar, Elliott had survived the encounter – not like the other squad. Deeming the area unsafe for recovery purposes, Pathfinder had insisted they keep moving.

And that was what had led to this peculiar situation for Elliott – still writhing in pain from his injuries while tossed over his squadmate’s shoulder as he ran. He’d practically moaned aloud with relief upon hearing Pathfinder’s voice over the radio, and he could’ve sworn he heard Gibraltar let out a quiet chuckle in response.

“Almost there, brotha. Hang on.”

“That’s me,” Elliott said, taken aback by how weak his own voice sounded. “I just keep on hangin’ on. I’m an excellent hanger-onner.”

He couldn’t see Gibraltar’s face, but he was convinced the larger man was giving him a funny look. People always did that to him.

At long last, they ducked under an open doorway, which Gibraltar slammed shut behind them, and then they were inside a small shack. Elliott felt a pair of strong hands grab him by the sides and lift him up off the shoulder he’d been rather uncomfortably resting on for the past few minutes, before slowly lowering him down to the floor, where he slumped against the nearest wall and let out a loud sigh of relief. Pathfinder’s voice came over the radio again.

“More good news! We’re already inside the next ring!”

“That true?” Gibraltar glanced out one of the windows, quickly scanning the exterior.

“It sure is!” Pathfinder enthused. “I’m going to keep a lookout out here, so you swell folks can take as much time as you need to rest and recuperate.”

Gibraltar dropped his gaze to meet Elliott’s eye. “You heard the robot, brotha. Let’s sort you out.”

Elliott didn’t know why the man’s words sent a funny tingle racing up his spine, but suddenly his throat felt a bit dry. “I...I think I used up my last medkit earlier...”

Gibraltar grimaced. “Me too. Pathfinder said he doesn’t have any healing supplies, either.”

Elliott whimpered. “Th-Then...what do we do? I dunno about _you_ but I’m starting to get a bit panicky here, you know?”

“Relax, brotha. Relax.”

There it was again. Whatever tone or quality it was in Gibraltar’s voice, it was resonating somewhere deep down in Elliott’s body. He could listen to the big guy talk about _anything_ for as long as he wanted. Maybe if they made it out, the two of them could meet up for a drink sometime? Or maybe...?

Elliott shifted awkwardly against the wall in an effort to try and ignore the fluttery feelings welling up inside, only to wince at the pain as his injuries flared again.

“I’ve got some basic supplies here that should ease the pain and get you back on your feet.” Gibraltar began rooting around in his backpack, taking out a small bottle of liquid that sloshed around inside, followed by a set of heavy, white bandages. “This is a healing salve – I don’t usually use it in the Arena much, but we don’t have a lotta options right now.” Gibraltar reached towards Elliott, faltering as his hands neared the smaller man. “I...you’re gonna need to take that off.”

Elliott blinked. “I...huh?”

“Your armour, your shirt – the whole thing, brotha.” Gibraltar pointed to Elliott’s injured torso. “Those wounds need to be treated. The sooner, the better. Can you take it off...?”

Okay, there were definitely some funny sensations going on around Elliott’s nether regions – things he never thought he’d feel in the middle of the Arena. He swallowed, throat fully parched now, and nodded. “Y-Yeah, I can do that.” He paused. “You want me to do it slowly, or...?”

“What? No, go as fast as you can!”

“You like to go fast, huh?” Elliott asked before he could stop himself.

“When I’m treating my squadmates, I do! Off, now!”

“Okay, okay!” The pain suddenly at the back of his mind, Elliott began removing his armour, before lifting his shirt up over his head and tossing it aside. “Guess you’re the dominant type...?”

That one _definitely_ didn’t sneak under the radar. Gibraltar met Elliott’s eye and quickly looked away, and he thought he saw a darker tinge to the big man’s cheeks. Gibraltar busied himself, up-ending the bottle of salve into his hands before rubbing them together.

“This might sting a bit, brotha...” Gibraltar reached towards Elliott’s bared torso, where the recent injuries scarred his flesh.

“It usually does, at first,” Elliott quipped, unable to help himself. He regretted it at once when Gibraltar touched his wounds, squirming under the big man’s hands as he rubbed the salve into them.

“F-Fuck! Ahh, ouch! _Yikes_ , that hurts!”

Gibraltar’s mouth formed a hard line. “Sorry, brotha. Thought you’d be used to a bit of pain by now, yeah?”

“Not me,” Elliott muttered, trying not to flinch at the way the salve made his injuries flare with agony. “Unlike most people, I can’t _stand_ pain. Really not a big fan.” A decent person would have kept it there, but Elliott’s mouth was doing that wonderful thing where it kept moving uncontrollably in times of extreme emotion and duress. “Pleasure, on the other hand, I can’t get enough of. I love me some pleasure.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Gibraltar’s mouth. “Not an easy thing to find in the Arena, pleasure.”

“Hey, it could be closer than you think.”

They held each others’ gaze for a solid five seconds, before Gibraltar mumbled, ‘Bandages.’

Elliott nodded. “G-Good idea.”

Elliott found it impossible to tear his eyes away from his squadmate as he tore up the bandages into strips, before wrapping them around Elliot’s torso. In the process, the two of them were brought even closer together than before, goosebumps forming on the parts of Elliott’s skin that Gibraltar’s breath fluttered against. Elliott felt like a coiled spring, trapped as he was underneath the other man’s considerable bulk, begging for some sort of release. Gibraltar could clearly tell, for he leaned back from Elliott after finishing tying the bandages and fixed him with a frown.

“Are you uncomfortable?”

Elliott swallowed deeply. “N-No. Okay, well maybe a little bit. But, hey, it’s no big deal!”

What certainly _was_ rather big was the now highly-noticeable bulge at the front of Elliott’s pants, growing by the second as he pressed firmly against the fabric beneath. Elliott tried his best not to draw attention to it, but a single glance downwards from Gibraltar, followed by a slight widening of his eyes, gave him the distinct impression he’d failed.

“Oh,” the big man said simply.

“Yeah.” Elliott felt pinpricks of sweat on the back of his neck. “S-Sorry. This, uh, doesn’t usually happen. Ah, I mean it _does_ happen to me often – getting hard, I mean. I’m a healthy adult, you know? These things happen...just not usually in the ring...”

Every word that tumbled helplessly out of Elliott’s mouth only made him feel like a bigger fool, and the bewildered expression on Gibraltar’s face only heightened that feeling. That was, until the man abruptly said:

“Guess you, uh, could use some help with that?”

Elliott’s mouth dropped open and he stared numbly at Gibraltar for a long, ponderous moment before he could muster up a reply.

“...Huh?”

There was definitely a blush rising in the big man’s face as his eyes focused on a spot on the wall somewhere behind Elliott’s right ear. “It, uh, could be dangerous to have that distracting you in the Arena. Better get rid of it as soon as possible, ya know?”

“Y-You think...?”

And, to Elliott’s amazement, Gibraltar sat up on his knees to reveal a similar, protruding bulge blooming to life at the front of his pants. His mouth, dry as a desert only moments beforehand, began to flood with saliva.

“Yeah,” Gibraltar murmured, hunger visible in the way his eyes swept over Elliott’s naked torso, fading as he froze and seemed to catch himself. “Just, uh, from a professional standpoint, ya know?”

Elliott nodded hurriedly. “Y-Yeah! Of course. I’m a pro, too! Absolutely! Yeah...”

Gibraltar gave him a shaky grin. “Great. Let’s get those pants off you, brotha...”

“Fuck,” Elliott grunted involuntarily, feeling the man’s low voice resonating deep in his chest and making his dick twinge with need. “I mean...g-good idea.”

Gibraltar grinned down at him, more confident now as he unbuckled Elliott’s belt, then took hold of his pants by the waist and began to slide them down over his hips, Elliott lifting himself up slightly off the floor in an effort to help. Elliott rarely wore underwear beneath his armour, and his dick sprung free the moment his pants had been dragged down to his thighs. Elliott wriggled out of them as he kicked off his boots, relishing the quietly-pleased look on Gibraltar’s face.

“That’s quite a mouthful, brotha.” And with that, Gibraltar leaned down towards Elliott’s dick, mouth wide open, not breaking eye-contact for a second as he began lathering the underside of the head with his tongue. Elliott hissed, even the slight contact against his dick making his whole body tremble. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down the back of his neck, before passing between his shoulder blades. Elliott didn’t dare look away or shut his eyes for a moment, not even as Gibraltar’s lips met the tip of his dick and slid over his head until they reached the shaft. He felt the man’s tongue lap against the hole, and saw Gibraltar’s eyebrows rise briefly, evidently enjoying the drop of pre-cum that had formed there. It was enough to make Elliott cry out in desperation.

“F-Fuck...” Elliott hissed. “ _Please_ fuck me. I’m serious.”

Gibraltar moved his head back and relinquished his mouth’s hold on Elliott’s dick. “You sure?” he asked. “I haven’t got any lube, brotha.”

“You can use that salve, can’t you?”

Gibraltar chuckled as he grabbed the bottle again, eyes darting between it and Elliott with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. “I suppose I could, but it might sting a little bit.”

“You won’t hurt me,” Elliott promised. “Please, just...just fuck me right now.”

Gibraltar gave him a grin. “Well, I can’t say no when you’ve asked so nicely, can I?” He handed Elliott the bottle. “Here, use as much as you have to, brotha.”

And with that, Gibraltar began unbuckling the front of his armour, setting it aside before undoing his belt and dropping his trousers. Elliott was so mesmerised by the sight of the impressively-girthy dick that suddenly swung free of the man’s underwear that he lost track of what he was supposed to be doing for a moment. Elliott’s mouth watered as he watched Gibraltar fold up his pants, placing them neatly atop his discarded armour, unable to tear his eyes away from the big man’s member.

“You ready to go, brotha?”

Elliott blinked, suddenly remembering where his fingers were currently located. “Huh? O-Oh, yeah. Gimme a sec...”

Gibraltar waited patiently while Elliott worked himself open with his fingers, which were slathered with the salve that had been smeared all over his torso only a few minutes beforehand. Once he was satisfied with his efforts, Elliott gave him a firm nod.

“Alright, it’s go time.”

Gibraltar grinned at Elliott again as he bore down on him. “That’s what I like to hear, brotha.”

A strong pair of hands took hold of Elliott’s thighs and pulled them further apart, Gibraltar shuffling forwards slightly until his dick pressed against Elliott’s hole, feeling somehow even larger than it had appeared. Nonetheless, with some amount of effort on both their parts, Gibraltar soon slid inside him, drawing a ragged gasp from the two of them in unison.

At that moment, a familiar voice crackled in his ear.

“I’ve got more good news, friends; we’re inside the ring!”

Elliott’s face flushed, and he saw Gibraltar’s cheeks change colour in turn. The bigger man hesitantly lifted a hand to his right ear. “Uh, Pathfinder? We, ah, we’re gonna shut off our radios for a few minutes. Is that cool with you?”

“No problem!” the robot enthused through the radio. “I’ll hold the fort here! You two have fun!”

Elliot raised a hand to his ear in turn and flicked the switch on his earpiece, muting the robot’s voice. “We, uh, probably should’ve done that a little while ago, huh?”

Gibraltar nodded, teeth bared in a grimace. “You’re too right, brotha.”

“Sooooo...should we pick up where we left off?”

Gibraltar answered by pushing himself deeper into Elliott, making the smaller man yelp as pleasure spiked through him.

“That’s _just_ what I was thinking, brotha.”

Gibraltar’s firm, meaty thighs began hitting against Elliott’s over and over, the soft slapping sound of flesh-on-flesh growing louder and more frequent as their pace increased. Elliott’s fingers scrabbled against the armour still covering Gibraltar’s back, searching feverishly for some sort of purchase. Gibraltar’s dick felt impossible huge inside him, filling him up, stretching him to the breaking point. Elliott couldn’t have stayed quiet even if he’d wanted to.

Gibraltar answered his impassioned moans with a soft groan. “Mirage...”

“Elliott,” he blurted out.

“...Sorry, brotha?”

“It’s my name. M-My _real_ name, I mean. Just...you know, if you wanna c-call me by that one instead?”

Gibraltar gazed down at him with gentle amusement, before giving him a wink and resuming his thrusts. “Sounds good, Elliott. I’m Makoa.”

“Makoa...” Elliott sounded the name out slowly, matching the tempo of the big man’s body as he ground his hips against him. “G-Good name.”

But it was getting more and more difficult to maintain coherent conversation when Gibraltar – or _Makoa_ , rather – was fucking him so slowly and yet so _deeply_. The big man rocked his hips back and forth with deliberate and ponderous motion, as though it was as natural to him as breathing. Elliott’s head lolled back, and he shut his eyes as spots danced before them.

“Ahhhhhhh...!” Elliott gritted his teeth. “I swear, if you don’t start fucking me properly, I’ll...I, uh...”

“You’ll what, brotha?”

A glance back down towards Makoa showed him those now-familiar teeth bared in a gleeful grin. The bastard was _enjoying_ this!

“I...I’ll get a bit cross with you,” he finished somewhat pathetically, earning a laugh from Makoa.

“I guess I’d better pick up the pace then, huh?”

And, to Elliott’s delight, he did. He felt the big man’s hands slide along his thighs until they took hold of his ass cheeks, which he gripped firmly, spreading them apart to ease his efforts. Elliott gasped as Makoa lifted him up off the floor and into his lap, hips moving with renewed vigour. Elliott threw his arms around the big man’s neck, a loud moan escaping his mouth with every thrust from Makoa, who allowed himself to join in, hissing Elliott’s name like a mantra in between grunts of effort and pleasure. Elliott pushed himself down on his dick, surging with sheer need. He never wanted this to stop, not even when the ring closed in and the world around them was rent with bullets. But he was quickly nearing the finish, now.

“M-Makoa,” he called, “I’m getting close!”

The man squeezed Elliott’s ass so tight that it hurt. “Go f-for it, brotha. I’m right there w-with you.”

“Ahhh! _Ahhhh!_ Fuck...!”

Elliott made a noise that, in any other situation, he would have described as ‘intensely embarrassing’ as his orgasm claimed him. His dick pumped its payload onto the front of Makoa’s torso, each spurt making Elliott’s entire body sing with pleasure. For a few moments of sheer ecstasy, there was nobody and nothing else in the entire galaxy but the two of them. Then there was a loud groan in his ear, accompanied by a sudden sense of loss as Makoa’s dick slid out from within him. One hand let go of Elliott’s ass to pump Makoa’s dick furiously, lasting only a scant few seconds before he came in turn. Elliott’s belly was coated with the load from Makoa’s dick, warm fluid soaking his skin, dripping onto the hard, wooden floor.

Makoa let out a long, deep sigh of relief. “That was...really somethin’, brotha.”

Elliott threw him a shaky grin. “Could say the same to you.” He paused, as the gravity of their surroundings hit him for the first time in what felt like ages. “Now, normally I’m a big fan of cuddling. Buuuut, I think we should probably get a move-on before another squad comes barging through the door.”

Makoa nodded. “Yeah, sound plan.” He grabbed hold of the bandages he’d used to wrap up Elliott’s torso earlier and began using them as a makeshift rag, mopping up the fluid on Elliott before wiping away the stains on his own armour. Elliott pulled his armour back on, a creeping sense of amazement with his own audacity coming over him as the lust that had been gripping him faded at last. He’d done some interesting things with some interesting people in some interesting places, but this was probably number one on his list. Well, _maybe_ number two – second only to the early morning he’d shared with a pair of spacefaring pirates in the Solace exosphere. But nothing could ever top _that_.

“Hey, uh, Makoa?” Elliott finished putting on his boots and straightened himself up, already prepared for whatever the arena would throw at him next. “If we win this thing, I-”

“ _When_ we win this thing,” Makoa corrected him firmly. Despite himself, Elliott felt another smile forming on his lips.

“Yeah, _when_ we win, let me buy you a drink.”

“Sounds good to me, brotha.” They were standing close enough to one another that, Makoa could lean in and plant a swift kiss on Elliott’s mouth, which he did. Elliott suddenly felt all flushed and warm, and not just because of how he’d been exerting himself for the past few minutes.

Makoa pulled away, jerking his head towards the door, beyond which the arena – and their third squad member – awaited. “Now, let’s get out of here. We’ve still got a long way to go before we reach the finish line.”

“Right behind you, big guy.” Elliott stepped up alongside Makoa, lashing out a hand to give his squadmate a friendly smack on the rear. His hand collided with the armoured backside with a dull _thunk_ , immediately followed by a hiss of pain from Elliott as he clutched his aching palm.

“Ahh, shit! I _really_ didn’t think that through.”

Makoa shook his head in exasperation as he pushed open the door and stepped out into the open air. “I’m not bandaging _that_ one up, brotha.”


End file.
